


Death Of The Author

by MostCharmingSmileAward (PicardAndDathonAtElAdrel)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:26:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24477169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PicardAndDathonAtElAdrel/pseuds/MostCharmingSmileAward
Summary: Whether or not you think Pottermore is canon, it's certainly got some fun ideas. I wanted to have a play with those and see what came out, so enjoy!
Kudos: 2





	Death Of The Author

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"Hogwarts’ plumbing became more elaborate in the eighteenth century (this was a rare instance of wizards copying Muggles, because hitherto they simply relieved themselves wherever they stood, and vanished the evidence)"_   
>  <https://www.wizardingworld.com/writing-by-jk-rowling/chamber-of-secrets>

\----------------------------------o0O~O0o----------------------------------

_An extract from the uncensored 1935 edition of:_

**Fanatical Fads and Fancies ******

by Bellamy Binns

_Section 7 .9 א - Library of Constantinople_

\----------------------------------o0O~O0o----------------------------------

Aldrich Amounderness was a truly great wizard. He had played Chaturanga with Queen Victoria, brokered peace between the French Ministry and the archdruids of Creuse, and invented the potion that cured gout. He was also, when I first saw him, unspeakably old. It was during my first placement for the fledgling Daily Prophet when I, fresh out of Ravenclaw, attended the April meeting of the Wizengamot, where Amounderness chaired as Chief Warlock. At one hundred and fifty six years old, he had held the position for nearly a third of his life, and was as able to hold the room in rapture when he spoke on that day as any other.

The debate in question regarded the recent spate of centaur raids in Powys, a topic about which Amounderness cared deeply. He was approximately three hours into “an appeal for sanity in these troubled times”, slowly building to one of his famous oratory crescendi, when those nearest to him wrinkled their noses in disgust, as a foul smell began to suffuse the room. As the scent reached those of us in the gallery above, the truth collectively dawned on the courtroom:

The old bastard had shat himself.

The only person who had not apparently noticed was the wizard himself, who continued extemporising as a dark stain spread across his crushed velvet robes. Even as they held delicate handkerchiefs to their faces, the eyes of his detractors filled with glee, mirroring the horror in those of his allies. This first sign of senility would spell the end of Amounderness’ reign over British politics, and allow those beneath to expose further cracks in his policies.

It was at this point that the warlock himself must have noticed, as what had started as a shocked murmur had grown as to nearly threaten his own address. In a move that would shake the wizarding world, in one movement, without breaking stride in his speech, Amounderness drew his wand, waved it discreetly, causing the stain to vanish, and stowed it again in his sleeve. As the room blinked at the sudden aroma of lavender that now replaced his shame, eyes widened as the consequences of what had just happened dawned on them. The most influential figure in the country had made a statement, unintentional or not: calls for refreshment breaks were no longer available as a filibustering technique. While to the average witch or wizard this may not mean much, to the representatives in the Wizengamot that day, it meant everything. Because Amounderness had risked his career in such a way, had stood there on the podium without embarrassment and proven that bodily functions should not stand in the way of aiding the people, no-one could rebel against it.

This truth would next manifest during the subsequent meeting of the Wizengamot, where a young witch from Penzance was attempting to appeal on the topic of cauldron bottom thickness, a divisive issue to this day. About half way through her plea, her left leg took on a tremor, eventually leading to a full on bounce and knee knock. She knew that she could not call for a break, as the room would simply carry on without her, and she would lose the ground she had gained in her months of campaigning and back door dealing (as is necessary when dealing with cauldron bottoms). With a glint of determination in her eye, her motions fell still, and the now familiar stain grew on her robes. However, with a swish of her wand, it was gone, and she continued her speech with a newfound determination that would affect cauldron policy for the next hundred years.

From then on it was a free for all, with even members not currently speaking relieving themselves where they sat, simply Vanishing the result when they were done. Eventually the practise spread into the rest of the ministry, and preferred replacement odors went in and out of fashion as fast as a floo. Witches in high society tittered to one another: “Can you _imagine_ , going in the ground like a Muggle”, even as their elves were demolishing their outhouses in the background. The practise was even written about as the healthy wizard's choice in the Prophet, as undressing one's self in a cold dark shack left one vulnerable to a rearguard attack from Dung Bats, Bog-garts and all manner of other magical creatures that could lurk in a man's dunny.

The greatest problem, and the beginning of the end for this Fanatical Fad, came the Autumn after genesis, when the train for Hogwarts pulled out of King's Cross on the 1st of September 1847. For the first time since the practise caught on publicly over the summer, the children of Wizarding Britain found themselves all together in an enclosed space, without their parents to cast any spells for them. As one can imagine, the smell that flooded onto the platform at Hogsmeade Station eight hours later was beyond description. While the older students all knew the appropriate charms, they were forced to barricade themselves in the prefects compartment as a defence against the wave of younger years clamoring at the doors, clutching the seats of their brand new school robes. When the groundskeeper summoned the rest of the staff from the castle, what they found would haunt their nightmares for the rest of their careers.

The first and second years, those who didn't know the relevant spells, but still didn't want to embarrass themselves by acting like muggles were found sobbing, surrounded by pools of their own feculence. Some of the more enterprising amongst them had tried to utilise the windows, resulting in steaming streaks down the side of the train. Climbing over the comatose body of the trolley wizard brought the faculty, all sporting bubble head charms, to yet greater abhorrence. Some of the middle year students, though having not learned the Vanishing charm, had attempted it anyway, and had been herded into a makeshift triage centre by the Head Girl, a witch who would later serve as director of St Mungo's. Ranging from simple missing buttocks, all the way to a 4th year Hufflepuff who had managed to fully hollow herself out, and lay as a living skin suit draped over one of the luggage racks, the atrocities found within the train that year spurred a novel introduction to Hogwarts within the hour: the porcelain toilet.

Suggested by the Muggle Studies professor, a one Ursula Sauvage, the conveniences were rapidly procured from a warehouse in nearby Drumnadrochit, and a series of lead pipes snaked through the walls of the castle. By the time every child had been put right, fed and put to bed, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had a fully functional plumbing system.

The next day brought a change across the nation. As hundreds of shameful letters spread out from the Owlery, the headmaster himself stormed into the ministry and demanded a new decree, in the name of public decency: every wizarding building must contain a functional lavatorium. Once the voice of the country's children joined the plea, the vogue of relieving oneself where one stood, and vanishing the result, itself vanished overnight. Through some tricky politics, the Incident on the train somehow became linked back to Aldrich Amounderness himself, and he was forced to retire in disgrace, and indeed, except by a series of Auror reports that recently became public, no one ever spoke of it again.


End file.
